In the Lead
by Becks Michaels
Summary: After the "First Face-Off," Wildwing contemplates his role as leader.


Disclaimer: I don't own the Mighty Ducks. Don't sue me Disney! I love your place!

I first revised this in June, reread it in September, and in October, I finally have gotten around to revising it thoroughly I hope! Now, after I've worked on "Belong," (To all my buddies, I finally got to a copy and pasting computer! Silver, I can't wait it read it! Thank you so much!) I'm embarrassed to have ever published it here, since I'm changing names, people, and scenes. Darn it! So, I just am putting this puppy here so that I have something still on ff.net, and not just my name. 

Anyway, I hope you like it. If you don't, well…I won't swear! Just think of the most insulting thing someone has ever said to you! Okay…I'm saying it to you! J/K!

Sorry, it's my Jersey attitude.

This takes place right after "The First Face-off", but I think you can all figure that out.

Well, enjoy. 

Love, 

Becks

_"In the Lead"_

_"Drake DuCaine," the teacher stated, her voice stern and sharp. "Myth or legend?" She scanned the classroom. "Mr. McDrake, what do you believe?"_

_Wildwing__ McDrake stopped scribbling in his notebook and looked up with a sigh, "Legend, Ms. Gander."___

_The teacher nodded. "Explain."_

_The secondary student exhaled. He spared a glance toward his best friend, who shrugged and sent him a sympathetic glare. Wildwing twiddled with his pen unconsciously. "Well, legends are born from truth, Ms. Gander. To say that Drake DuCaine never existed would be like saying that hockey doesn't exist."_

_"I don't quite follow you, Mr. McDrake," Ms. Gander replied, taking a seat on the edge of her desk._

_Wildwing__ thought for a moment, looking down at his drawing before continuing, "Take a one-timer for example. A puck starts from- let's say the blue line- and is shot into the net." _

_A boy to Wildwing's left laughed. "Obviously you weren't in the net, 'Drake.'"_

_Shaking his head, Wildwing didn't even seem phased. "The puck began at one position and ended at another. How are we to say that the puck was at the blue line in the first place? It is no longer there, obviously, and we have little evidence to prove it was, possibly a burnt net or a dent on the stick, but even that proves that the puck was shot into the net, not necessarily from the blue line."_

_Ms. Gander raised an eyebrow. "Your point, McDrake?"_

_"Though we can say we saw the puck in the original position, there is no proof speaking that it was truly there. Possibly it was an illusion; however, we just don't know in our brains that we saw the puck there; we know in our hearts. Some times people don't have to see something to believe it, Ms. Gander. Though we saw the puck, sometimes I don't have to. Sometimes, I just have to stick my glove into the air and catch, because I know in my heart that that's where that puck is going, just like I know in my heart that Drake DuCaine was real."_

_The teacher grinned slightly. "So that 'little evidence' you called upon, Mr. McDrake, a burnt net or a dent in the stick. Where is that evidence for to support Mr. DuCaine's existence?"_

_Wildwing__ smirked. "We know for a fact that the Saurians existed, Ms. Gander. We know they conquered our planet. That is the burnt net. We also know that someone had to stop them. That was the dented stick." _

!!!

Drake DuCaine existed. 

That much he knew. 

Everything else, however, was a big question mark.

Wildwing McDrake shook his head. Though it was late at night and he was exhausted, he couldn't sleep, and while his little brother found that watching the television helped insomnia, that form of entertainment never seemed to help him. Instead, Wildwing decided that a midnight skate might help him, and suddenly he found himself in the downtown Anaheim. 

It was weird, he thought, how much Earth was different from Puckworld and yet so much similar. Both planets had similar transportation systems, food, even entertainment, but Earth definitely lacked technology and certain forms of activities, like the love for hockey. However, all that was only at the top of his thoughts. His more conscience thoughts held the idea that he was still young, a young adult in the eyes of Puckworld law. Now, though, he was the leader of a group of crime fighters out to stop an invasion of a foreign planet from the same creatures that took over his own home world. 

What the heck was he doing? 

Earlier, Wildwing had found himself at the breaking point. Earlier, he and the team had discovered Dragaunus after Drake One detected the Raptor's drive engines. Wildwing was quite convinced that it was the overlord and found himself being right, even though the team had landed in the middle of nowhere. Then, somewhere in the fight versus the lizards, he came face to face with Dragaunus-alone. The thought freaked him out a little, even now. Wildwing was a secondary school student, a hockey player, but a fighter-no. Yes, his father was in the military, but he never believed it would be his career. If there was one thing Wildwing knew last year it was that he would never be in the military, especially after what happened to his little brother, but now… he was the general of it all. He was there, fighting Dragaunus practically with his bare hands, with the others either away or underneath the barrels. He was all alone to fight the lizard, and he was losing poorly. Reflecting back, Wildwing now knew he probably would have died if the overlord hadn't opened his mouth about the Mask. It was then Wildwing had remembered the ancient artifact and had turned the fight to the better. He had won. 

Then, the team supported him with the whole leadership idea, and Wing found he couldn't say no. Though, now, he knew he should have. 

Wildwing sighed. He wasn't supposed to be a leader. The responsibly that went along with job was too much for him. What happened if he made the wrong choice? He wasn't used to watching out for five people. Five was an awfully big number. Less than a year ago, all he had to do was watch over his brother, worry whether or not he would pass freshman aero-physics, and make sure the puck did not fly over the line. That was it. Now, he was in a war, even if the planet didn't know, and lead his teammates into battle. Change? No, nothing big.

Suddenly, he found himself angry at Canard. Canard had sacrificed himself to a giant…worm…to save the team. Didn't his best friend know what would happen if he committed suicide? What would happen if he left Wildwing in charge? Wildwing scowled. He wasn't a leader. Leading was never his strong suit. How could he- a secondary student!- ever hope to put up a fight versus the overlord that conquered Puckworld. Anyone of the other ducks could lead better than he, so why did Canard have to leave the Mask, the responsibly, to him? If he failed or gave the wrong order, the whole team could die and the planet would fall, along with it the universe. 

Wildwing sighed and resigned. If he ever found Canard, he knew the first thing he'd do. Of course, he would hug his friend and welcome him back, then kick his ass, and tell him exactly where he could shove his Mask…

That was…if Canard was still alive.

A tear fell down his face. There wasn't many people Wildwing could trust, but Canard was one of them. And now… he, too, was gone. And now…Wildwing was in the lead…and now…

Wildwing found himself back at the beginning. What was he doing? How could he ever lead a resistance? Little water drops fell from the sky, and a thunderclap rang through the night sky. He stopped for a moment, not sure about where he was. He turned about, noticing a street sign that didn't tell him anything. He was lost, in more ways then one.

Suddenly, a large car pulled up. It was the Migrator.

"Need a ride?" Grin asked, the window rolled down. 

Wildwing eyed him suspiciously for a moment before nodding. "Thanks." He skated around the car and got in. He took the passenger's seat at the front. As the car began to move, Wildwing decided to ask the question. 

"How did yo-" 

"Know you were out here?" Grin finished with a slight…grin as he pushed on the gas pedal. "I felt your confusion and reached out to find you."

"Oh."

"That and traced your comm." Grin hesitated, Wing noticed, for only a second. "Are you all right? I feel doubt and pain within your being." 

"My being?" Wildwing asked in confusion. He shook his head, understanding. "I'm fine, really."

"Is that why you couldn't sleep and needed to get away? Because you're fine?"

Wildwing didn't know how to answer. Should he confide in a practically total stranger whom he only knew for a few weeks? No, he wouldn't, even thought the stranger was a friend, really. They played on the same team, even lived together, but still...Wildwing hardly knew the older man. 

"I'm fine." He finally answered, reserved.

Grin nodded as he pulled the Migrator into the hanger. "I will not push, my friend, but I believe your doubt to be unjust to yourself. You are a good leader, better than you know."

Wildwing smiled sadly. "Thanks, Grin. That means a lot." Though he said the words, they were absent and flat.  Wildwing quickly walked to the door, lowering the stairs.

As he headed out, Grin spoke out from the driver's seat. "If you ever need to talk, my friend, I always have an open ear." 

Wildwing nodded. "Thank you." With that, he headed toward his bunk.

As he lay in bed that night, Wildwing wasn't sure how this new arrangement would work. He was an alien, a professional hockey player, and bearer of the Mask of DuCaine, the greatest team captain that ever lived. However, while he might hold the Mask, there was one thing he knew in his heart.

A leader he certainly wasn't.

!!!

_Ms. Gander turned to Wildwing, a smirk upon her face. "While your little evidence suggests the existence of Drake DuCaine, I have another question for you.  How do you know when the stick dent and the burnt net aren't from the puck?"_

_Wildwing__ shrugged. "That's like asking, 'How do you know when your heart is wrong?'"_

_The teacher smirked. "How do you know when  your heart is wrong?"_

The End


End file.
